


This Song Sounds Like You

by booksandtea15 (orphan_account), shitty4eyes (orphan_account)



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, DICKS OUT FOR CHANGKI, M/M, Rapper Changkyun, Social Media, Struggling Working Class Kihyun, changki rise, dick jokes. nothing new guys, established hyungwonho, famous au, kind of?, kind of??, kind of???, minor jooheon/gun, rom com, we realize this is very niche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:18:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/booksandtea15, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/shitty4eyes
Summary: “What the hell was that?”“Nothing.”“Last time someone asked for your name, you got your first warning.”“I just told him to fuck off, it wasn’t like I was actually gonna do anything to him. Besides, this guy… didn’t ask for my name."“He didn’t even ask, you’re right! That’s my favourite part, I was just going to mention it.”





	1. What's the Tea?

Sleep is for the weak.

Changkyun, unfortunately, was an incredibly weak man when it came to the allure of his bed at three am, and as much as he loved wearing t-shirts that proudly read “I’LL SLEEP WHEN I’M DEAD”, Changkyun needed coffee. (In outrageous amounts). He needed it badly. Especially since he just could not, for the life of him, figure out the hook to this goddamn song, and wasn’t keen on sleeping before he could. He would stay up the whole night, even if it killed him.

Which, honestly, it very well might. But coffee would help. Definitely. (Possibly. Maybe. _Please god_ ).

Changkyun walked into the nearest coffee shop to the dorm where he’d been spending the little time he wasn’t holed up in the shoe-box sized studio Starship had given him, desperately trying to perfect the lyrics to his debut album.

He was still going over the verses in his head, (maybe mumbling them a bit to himself… a bit) trying to figure out the correct rhythm, the _right_ word, the one that would just… work, when he realised he was now standing in front of the counter, being stared at (more like scowled at, really), by what looked like an incredibly put-out (and, Changkyun couldn’t help but notice, very cute) barista, light brown hair flopping in his eyes.

Being surrounded by a bunch of would-be idols really should desensitise him to attractive people. But goddamn. He sure was a sucker for pretty people. Especially if they looked a bit angry at him--oh right, yeah, coffee. Shouldn’t keep the pretty man waiting any longer. Especially since he, pointedly, cleared his throat in Changkyun’s direction.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or do you actually _want_ something?”

“Well, you sound pretty good right nooooOH GOD I MEAN--I MEANT--”

The barista rolled his eyes, blowing a lock of hair out of his face. Changkyun was a tomato.

“Look, kid, either tell me your order, or get out of here. There’s a line forming behind you.”

“Yeah, I know. You'd think they're here for the coffee.” Changkyun paused. “Large Americano, please."

The barista tapped at the screen, entering his order before pausing to ask, “Hot milk, cold milk, or no milk?”

“Er, hot milk, thanks. I have to walk and--yeah, cold, thanks. Take away. Er.”

The barista lifted his eyes from the screen, stared at Changkyun for a second, before saying in a voice that sounded more weary and worn-out than the creaky old chair Changkyun had in his studio, “So, cold milk, then.”

“No?” Changkyun shifted his eyes away from the barista and back. “I have to walk back to my stu--apartment, I still want it hot when I get there.”

“Then why the f--” The barista took a deep breath as an older man, bald with a greying beard, appeared out of the back room, shooting the barista a stern glance. “I mean, of course.”

“Anything is fine,” Changkyun said, looking down with a wince. “Sorry. You’re just so pretty and I’m tired.”

“I’m not a mind-reader, kid. Don’t muddle up your words and expect people to understand-- Wait, what?”

The barista paused, tired eyes going slightly wide as he surveyed Changkyun.

“Did you mean that?”

“Yeah, just put any milk in it’s--”

“No, the other thing.”

Changkyun could feel himself blush. He had no goddamn filter. “Uhm. Yeah. Think it’s pretty obvious from how much of an idiot I’m being. _I’m so sorry you probably get this all the time from idiots like me and--_ ”

“Uhm. No, I don’t.” There was a pause as the barista prepared his drink and Changkyun prepared to be swallowed by the earth. Any moment now. Handing the drink to him and taking his money, the barista cocked his head at Changkyun. “Get some sleep, kid. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

“I could say the same for you.” Changkyun registered the words coming out of his mouth a few seconds too late. “Oh my _god_ , I didn’t mean it like that I just meant--” Changkyun gave up. “Oh, fuck me with a pogo stick.”

The barista hummed, lips twitching.

“That sounds incredibly painful.”

Changkyun made a sound that sort of resembled a dying whale, and made to turn around just as the barista’s hesitant voice stopped him, and he turned to see the barista, somewhat flushed, staring resolutely at the computer screen.

“Um, my name’s Kihyun, by the way.”

Changkyun couldn’t help but smile a little, quickly sticking his hand into his pocket to take out a note (was that ₩10000? Maybe) and slip it into the tip jar that read ‘Kihyun’.

“Changkyun,” he said, doing a two fingered salute (cheeks still _blazing_ ) before turning around and, like the brilliant rapper he was, getting a contract at the age of 20, getting lost on the way to his goddamn studio.

 

\- * - * - 

 

\- * - * - 

“What the hell was that?”

“ _Nothing_.”

“Last time someone asked for your name, you got your first warning.”

“I just told him to fuck off, it wasn’t like I was _actually_ gonna do anything to him. Besides, this guy… didn’t ask for my name."

“He didn’t even _ask,_ you’re right! That’s my favourite part, I was _just_ going to mention it.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Yoongi. It’s not like you didn’t all but write your number on that short kid’s cup.”

“We’re all short here, Kihyun.”

“ _Listen_ , we measured, I’m taller than you!”

“With insoles, maybe.”

“Can you two short shits please get back to work?”

\- * - * - 

 

 

\- * - * - 

 

He needed more coffee. That was all.

Coffee, coffee, coffee, cute boy, coffee.

(It wasn’t his fault the coffee at the studio was absolute _shit_ ).

... _Coffee_.

If he combed a hand through his hair before coming back, it was purely for his meager public image.

(The few thousand followers he had on Twitter and VLive might see him, that was all).

He walked up to the counter, will steeled, head on straight, foot out of his mouth and--

“Can I take your order?”

“No.”

The barista that, well, _definitely_ wasn’t Kihyun grimaced at him.

“Well, shit, kid, I can hum a tune but I’m not sure what else you’d want from me here.”

“Do you work in shifts?” Changkyun shook his head. “Sorry, I’m here for coffee.”

The barista blinked at him.

“Work in shifts? What kind of-- No, I’m one of those rare breed of people who actually _live_ at their jobs.” He beamed at Changkyun. Changkyun had the (slight) feeling it was sarcastic. “Which coffee?”

“I, er,” Changkyun’s eyes feebly glanced over the blackboard menu behind the barista. “Espresso. Two shots. Cold milk. Er. Biggest one.”

The barista shrugged, moving to fill his order.

“You know, no matter how big the cup, it’s _still_ only gonna be two shots of espresso. It’s just gonna be more milky. But, hey, who am I to tell you what to do.”

“That is a... fair point.”  
  
“So what’s your excuse this time?” The barista asked, moving around behind the counter to make Changkyun’s now stupidly milk-espresso proportioned drink. “Am I also just pretty and you’re tired?”

Changkyun accepted death in all its forms, hiding behind his hands as he groaned into them. “Oh my _god_. I’m not sure if him spreading that horribly embarrassing moment in my life or you overhearing it is worse.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry. He didn’t tell me. I just like listening in to people’s conversations. Especially when it makes Kihyun give up his name to someone who _didn’t even ask_ .” The grin the barista was sending his way was… honestly scaring Changkyun a little bit. Those were a _lot_ of pointy teeth.

“He doesn’t do that..?”

“Nope.”

“Then how do people know who to tip?”

Yoongi blinked at him, before making a sweeping gesture to the name tag pinned to his chest.

“Ah.”

Yoongi handed over the coffee and took the money Changkyun had put on the counter. “Kihyun doesn’t have one, though. There was a spelling mistake so he refuses to wear it. Knock yourself out, kid.”

 

\- * - * - 

 

 

\- * - * - 

 

Kihyun took a deep breath at the top of the staircase, barely breathing heavily at all. Six months of climbing ten flights of stairs up and down to his apartment paid off. Not that he particularly _cared_ how fit he was, he just really couldn’t stand the thought of being trapped in the dingy, creaky, rickety old elevator of the old apartment building.

He adjusted the straps of his backpack on his bag, heavy with the weight of the groceries he picked up and took the few, short steps to his apartment door, testing the handle, and then opening it when it proved to be unlocked, sighing with relief at the fact that he didn’t have to fish for his keys, even as he silently cursed Jeongyeon for not locking the door, _again_.

“Jeongyeon,” he called, stepping out of his shoes before advancing further into the tiny apartment, “how many times do I have to tell you-- Oh, hi Mom.” Kihyun smiled tiredly as his mother looked up from where she had parked her wheelchair in front of the television, her night drama running and hands busy, knitting what looked to be a blanket of some sort.

“Hi, honey,” she smiled at him, lowering the blanket and gesturing him over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “How was work?”

Kihyun opened his mouth to give his usual answer, (“fine”), but then the image of the smiling, stuttering boy, pink with embarrassment, came up in his mind’s eye, and he couldn’t help the grin that stole over his lips.

“It was… surprisingly not awful.”

His mother smiled up at him, before wincing, her hand falling to prod at her back.

Kihyun, happiness forgotten, frowned, slinging his backpack from his back and rooting around in it for the pills he’d bought, handing it over to his mother who accepted them with a grateful smile.

“Is it bad?” Kihyun asked softly, hands hovering unsurely, before he shoved them into his pants’ pockets.

“No more than usual,” his mother said reassuringly, shaking her head as Kihyun’s frown remained. “You worry too much. You’re gonna get wrinkles from all that frowning, you mark my words.”

“If I’m gonna get wrinkles from anything, it’ll be idiot customers,” Kihyun griped, forcing a smile onto his face. It was better to smile and play along, after all. Better to pretend everything was fine.

After making sure his mother was comfortable, he put away the groceries and went to knock on Jeonyeon’s door, shoving open the door, (the only way to get it open, what with how close the bed was to the door. It was more a broom closet than a room, and Kihyun would feel bad about it if his didn’t look the same) when she told him to come in.

“You know,” he started, leaning against the doorframe and watching as she bopped her head along to something on her earphones, twirling a pencil in her hand as she stared absent-mindedly at her book, “I’m almost _definitely_ sure I told you to lock the door behind you when you come home from school. In fact, I think I even wrote you a note.”

“Shhh, Kihyunnie, Jooheon’s rapping.”

Kihyun rolled his eyes.

“Jeongyeon, I’m serious. This… isn’t the safest neighbourhood, and I don’t want anyone coming in uninvited while I’m not here. And, with all the music you listen to, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone came in and robbed us blind without you being any the wiser.”

Jeongyeon scoffed. “Oh, yeah, and I’m sure any robbers would just freakin’ sprint in the opposite direction when they spot you with a cooking pan, huh?”

Kihyun flushed, scowling.

“That’s not the point!” He huffed, crossing his arms as she laughed softly. “You’re putting mother in danger. It’s not like _she_ could defend herself if someone just came in.”

The pen in Jeongyeon’s hand stilled its spinning. “Yeah. No, I know. I’ll remember, okay? Jeez, no need to get on my case about it…” She mumbled down at her book.

Kihyun pursed his lips, debating with himself, before shaking his head.

“Just, see that you do, okay?”

With that he closed the door behind him, looking forward to a nice, hot (if Jeongyeon hadn’t used all the hot water, that is) shower, after which he would face plant into bed and hope to all the gods that his alarm goes off at the right time.

 

\- * - * - 

\- * - * - 

“Do you, absolutely, _have_ to play that?”

“Do you, absolutely, _have_ to get on my ass about it?” Yoongi smiled, turning the volume knob on the radio just a _little_ bit more.

“It’s not-- it doesn’t even--” Kihyun spluttered, before running a hand through his hair.

“Mmm, can’t hear your bullshit over these sweet rhymes.”

“He’s just _speaking_ ! He’s not really doing anything, I don’t _understand_ \--”

“No, _you’re_ just speaking. He’s caressing my eardrums. With fire.”

“I worry about you sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

Kihyun grinned at Yoongi, teeth showing. “Well, you see, I just don’t give enough fucks to _care_ about you all of the time.”

“So you care _sometimes_?”

“ _That’s not what I--_ ”

The little bell on top of the door signalled that it was time for them to stop arguing, and start smiling.

(The manager insisted on it after the seventh time a customer walked in on them in a, um, rather _heated_ discussion where Kihyun may or may not have been threatening Yoongi with a milk frother. It wasn’t even _on_ , honestly).

Kihyun looked up, automatically plastering a smile on his face, (after too many years in the service industry it’s hard _not_  to smile at people. Which was _infuriating_ when you didn’t want to talk to them), only to see the kid, Changkyun, shuffling into the shop, earphones hanging from his head.

Changkyun looked up, made eye-contact with Kihyun, still smiling like a robot, and blushed, smiling back softly before looking down and shuffling forward. Kihyun’s eyes widened slightly, smile turning more genuine and less ‘I’m just doing this so my boss doesn’t yell at me’ and he had just opened his mouth to greet Changkyun when--

“Oh, _heeyyy,_ kid,” Yoongi grinned.

Kihyun twitched.

“Is there a particular pretty boy you’d like to confuse you today?”

Kihyun pursed his lips, turning to Yoongi.

“Did you just call me pretty?”

“Meh, you’re alright.”

Rolling his eyes, Kihyun pushed him away, (“Jeez, let the kid _choose_ \--”) before turning to a blushing Changkyun. After a few seconds of Changkyun just staring at him, Kihyun sighed.

“Look, if you want me to call him back--”

“No no no!” Changkyun waved a hand, hitting his earphones and sending them flying, scrambling to catch them as he continued babbling. “I mean, it’s fine, I choo-- _I mean_ , you’re not a Pokemon--” Nervous laughter. “I’m sorry.”

“You choose me?”

Kihyun couldn’t help it. This kid was _exceedingly_ easy to fluster, and it was amusing, and honestly his life was miserable enough as it was. He deserved his amusement.

“Of course not! I mean, you’re not a _menu item_. I could just leave now, actually.”

“So… you _don’t_ want me to serve you? I’m getting some very mixed signals here.”

Kihyun bit back a grin as Changkyun’s face twisted, almost looking close to crying.

“I don’t know what you want from me here.”

“I thought this was more about what you wanted from me.”

Changkyun blinked. “I’m so sorry, that sentence did not compute. Please try again.

“...I assume you came in here for coffee?”

Changkyun laughed, high pitched and red faced. “I sure did. Uhm. Large Americano, please.”

“Hot milk?” Kihyun asked, already moving to fill the order, thinking he really tortured the poor kid enough.

“Whatever you want, dude,” Changkyun breathed.

“You need to be decisive and like, _own_ your choices.”

Right at that moment, just as Changkyun was opening his mouth to reply, the music that had been playing in the background suddenly became _overwhelmingly_ loud and, seething, Kihyun turned towards a very unrepentant looking Yoongi, _his hand still on the fucking volume dialI_.

“Would you. Turn that. The fuck down,” Kihyun all but yelled.

“Turn it up?” Yoongi yelled back, cupping his ear. “Sure thing!”

“TURN IT DOWN!”

“Dude, the music’s loud, can’t hear you!”

Kihyun gripped the milk frother in his hand, considering. It’s not like their manager was _there_ at the moment.

“Is this Jooheon?” Changkyun yelled over at Yoongi. “Nice!”

Yoongi turned down the music (not enough, in Kihyun’s expert opinion), approached the counter, and nodded. “Good. Finally. A sensible human being in this place.”

“Pfff, you’d have to be a moron to diss Jooheon. He’s fucking brilliant.”

Kihyun rolled his eyes, finishing up the drink and handing it to Changkyun.

“Are you saying I’m a moron?”

“Mmm?” Changkyun said, peeling the lid of coffee and taking a careful sip, hissing and fanning his mouth, before frowning and squinting at him. “Why would I call you a-- _No way_ . Seriously? _Hyuuuuung_.”

“Yah,” Kihyun complained, throwing the cup’s lip at Changkyun’s face. “You can’t call me hyung. We barely know each other. And, like, rapping is just speaking, it’s just--”

“-- _Excuse me?!_ ” His words seemed to hurt more than any flung coffee lid ever could.

“See? This is what I have to work with.”

“Rapping isn’t just!” Changkyun gaped. “I cannot _believe--_ the _audacity_ \--”

“I have yet to hear someone rapping that even comes _close_ to the kind of skill and dedication needed to train your voice to sing, for example, the high notes in some of IU’s songs,” Kihyun grumbled.

“Red lorry yellow lorry! Say that three times fast, I goddamn dare you.”

“Can you do it?”

“Of course I can, I’m a ra--rather talented person.” Changkyun straightened up, face blazing. “I have a very talented tongue.”

Yoongi nearly choked to death on a barking laugh.

“Well, you say that, but didn’t _do it_.”

Changkyun, red faced, straightened up, pulled at his hoodie, and cleared his throat before folding in on himself again. “I can’t exactly do it with you looking at me like that!”

“Stop, please, you two are _killing me_ ,” Yoongi gasped out, nearly bent double as he hung onto the edge of the counter.

Kihyun blinked at him.

“What are we doing?”

Yoongi wheezed. “So _dumb_.”

“Listen,” Changkyun said, clearing his throat. “There has to be _something_ you like. I refuse to believe there isn’t a rapper or a song out there you don’t like.”

“I like _songs_ , I just don’t, particularly, like rapping. Of any kind.” Kihyun shrugged, refusing to feel shamed by this kid he barely knew (with a really cute smile and he flushed so adorably and--) and his stupid coworker who, really, has no room to talk, since he once called IU’s voice screechy.

“And what about songs that _have_ rapping? Have you heard k-pop, man, the clear majority of it has _rapping_ in it.”

Kihyun levelled a _truly_ unimpressed looking glare towards Changkyun.

“Have I _heard_ k-pop? We’re in _South Korea_ . We’re _both Korean_.”

“It was clearly rhetorical!” Changkyun said, blushing nonetheless. “To-to showcase the obvious popularity of rapping. Okay? Okay.”

Kihyun shook his head, but a smile played along the edges of his lips nonetheless.

“Okay,” he conceded, rolling his eyes, “if you say so. Are you gonna pay for that?” He nodded towards the Americano in Changkyun’s hands.

Changkyun eyes flitted down to the coffee. “I could just run.”

“I would not recommend that, kid,” came Yoongi’s wry voice. “I can run _pretty_ fast. Ask Kihyunnie here. He still owes me a pizza because I won him--”

“It _wasn’t a goddamn race oh my god_ . Not… like that, anyway. How was I supposed to know you were abnormally fast in rolling cutlery,” Kihyun huffed, sending a petulant glare Yoongi’s way, before directing his best puppy dog eyes, (which weren’t very good, he had to admit), Changkyun’s way. “You believe me, right? You don’t believe this idiot actually _fairly_ won me at something?”

“Do you want my car? I don’t own a car. I’d _give you my car_.”

Kihyun blinked, before smirking and ignoring Yoongi’s not at all muffled guffaws behind him.

“You’re too easy kid.”

“I know. Here,” he pulled a note out of his pocket, glanced at it, and handed it over, not actually looking at Kihyun. “I’m going to go look for a cliff now. Uhm. _Goddammit_.”

Kihyun watched as Changkyun stumbled his way out of the shop, bumping into objects and _apologising to them_ , only really noticing the money that had been pushed into his hand when Yoongi gave a low whistle.

“He must _really_ like his coffee.”

Kihyun blinked at Yoongi, before looking down at the money and realising that the kid _had doubled the cost of the coffee_.

“Shut your mouth, it’s not that weird that a cute boy finds you attractive,” Yoongi snickered.

Kihyun swallowed the slightly uncomfortable feeling in his throat and laughed along with Yoongi, preparing to tease him all the way through his shift.

(And, if, in his mind, he had already decided to give the money back to Changkyun the next time he saw the kid, because he _knew_ how far even a little money could go when you had none, well. That was his business.)

 

\- * - * - 

 

 

\- * - * - 

 

He’d paid double for one cup of coffee. He bought one cup of coffee where he could have bought two goddamn cups of coffee, and now he had to subdue himself to whatever bitter bean sludge the company was inflicting their poor, suffering artists to (he wasn’t dramatic, shut up), because even though he was a signed artist they still didn’t give him much pocket money and also… he was fairly sure he’d _die_ if he saw Kihyun again.

Seriously. Could he not just. Be cool.

Signed artist. He’s done _aegyo,_ for fuck’s sake. Why was he like this. _Take my car_. Jesus Christ.

He would. He would endure the coffee. He needed the coffee. He needed not to die of embarrassment.

 _Endure_.

He almost thanked his own stupid clumsiness when he knocked the coffee over, having forgotten that no, his earphones _weren’t_ cordless and limbs exist but limbs and cords do not, in fact, _co-_ exist. He quickly moved all of his electronics away from the spreading toxic sludge, before sighing as he watched it drip. Really.

And, of course, as a quick scan of his tiny dorm confirmed, there was nothing, short of his towel which, really, just no, to wipe the coffee up with. Either that or sacrifice a t-shirt, and he already barely owned any nice clothes. Goddammit.

Because he is a disaster of human being who cannot, for the life of him, plan ahead and make purchases on a timely basis.

Like a cloth. Or tissues.

...He could probably afford tissues.

 _Drip drip_.

Changkyun groaned. Loudly. “Fiiiine, I’ll put on pants. And go outside. And buy goddamn tissues at three in the morning. Okay? Are you happy?”

The coffee continued dripping, unbothered.

“Y’mum’s a hoe, Starship coffee.”

Of course, it was only once he got outside the apartment and saw that the little family run shop across from his building was closed, that he realised that it was not, in fact, a reasonable time. It was, as a quick glance at his phone confirmed, three in the damn morning, and damn, the nearest 24/7 was two blocks away and Changkyun didn’t _wanna_.

But.

He was an adult (or something that resembled that species), and he couldn’t go back to an apartment where his desk was literally _dripping_ in the worst coffee imaginable.

He’d put on pants for this. He hadn't even put on pants for his VLive earlier. He was already cold and miserable. He might as well.

Why did midnight-run convenience stores have to be so damn _bright_ ? What good could that possibly bring to anyone still conscious at this time of night? Why illuminate the horror of the situation? Like, everyone who came to these places this early _knew_ they weren’t supposed to be there, that they weren’t supposed to even _exist_ at that hour. There was absolutely _no need_ to point it out.

Changkyun whined a little, eyes squinting down the aisles. Tissues, tissues, tissues.

He could barely see through his eyelashes but it was honestly preferable. He knew he was hungry, too, the packet of ramen he’d devoured five hours ago obviously having worked its way out of his system. God, he needed to eat healthier. Not that he could eat much, with his debut coming up soon. He’d promised his mother he’d eat a vegetable at least once a day. He thinks it’s been one, no two, no… a few days.

He shuffled towards the vegetable aisle. He couldn’t cook anything, which kind of limited his options. Actually making anything required concentration completely unreachable at three in the morning. Apple? Fruit. Cucumber? Hmm. Vegetable. Eh. Why not.

 _Tissues, tissues, tissues_.

After finding his salvation somewhere between tiny bottles of shampoo and colourful tampon boxes, he grabbed a brandless, cheap looking box of tissues, and, although his eyes have definitely adjusted to the blinding light, Changkyun continued squinting, dragging himself to the counter.

(He wasn’t going to just _give in_ to what the evil corporations wanted and open his eyes the whole way to realise the full patheticness of his situation. No. We are pathetic like _men_ , refusing to look it in the eye.)

“Stop ringing if it’s more than 10000,” Changkyun grumbled, plopping the items onto the counter and starting his Pocket Money Scavenger Hunt.

“Um…”

Changkyun blinked, opening his eyes a little wider. Why did that voice sound so familiar?

“I think you forgot something.”

Something hit the counter with muted, plastic sound thump, and Changkyun looked up to see… a bottle of lube?

“Why--” he started, looking up, only to cut himself off as he stared, wide-eyed and horrified into his little _toe_ , into Kihyun’s eyes.

“I see you have a fun night planned.”

Kihyun was pursing his lips, obviously trying not to laugh and, and Changkyun wasn’t, he had to let him know he wasn’t, wasn’t doing _that_ , oh my _god--_

“This is _not_ what it looks like.” Changkyun stared down at his chosen items, wondering when he’d turned into a _complete fucking moron_.

“Mmmhmm. Whatever you say.”

“I spilled, okay.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did.”

“I didn’t even choose the lube!”

“Well, I mean, without lube, it can get _really dry_ and--”

“You’re literally just making yourself look bad,” Changkyun said, and yet, could not stop, for the literal life of him, blushing. “Seriously, why is this your first thought?!”

“Making myself look bad? How’s that? Also, I’ve seen a lot of things, Changkyunnie, your cucumber dildo doesn’t bother me. _That_ much. I’ve seen…” for a second, Kihyun got a far off look in his eyes, before shaking his head and shuddering. “I’ve seen some strange things. But, I would recommend investing in an _actual_ dildo. Cucumbers _do_ tend to go bad.”

He was going to combust. His face was literally the brightest thing in here (and that was _saying_ something).

“Let me guess, you also work at a sex shop?”

Kihyun shrugged, finishing ringing up his tissues and holding up the lube with a questioning face.

“Eh, tried that once. Didn’t work out all that well. Now, do you want this?”

“Is that why you’re suggesting I use lube?”

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

“ _I don’t need lube_.”

“What, do you already have some?”

“Ye-- _no_.”

Kihyun tutted at him, shaking his head.

“You know, it’s better to be safe rather than sorry. I mean, you could just be getting comfortable, you know, getting into it and, when you look to the side, the lube’s gone.” Kihyun shook his head. “Not a good thing.”

“At this point, I think _you_ want me to have lube more than I do.”

“I want what’s best for you.”

“And a lubed up cucumber is what’s best for me?”

“Meh, if you do it right. Still, I would recommend getting an _actual_ dil--”

“And I'd prefer an actual dick but that's not the point."

Kihyun dropped the lube, spluttering a bit (to Changkyun's amusement) before picking it up again like he hadn't just dropped it at all.

"Seriously, though, what the hell are you doing here to witness my sin? I thought you were a barista.”

“Ah, so you admit, you _were_ sinning.”

Kihyun was wearing the most shit-eating grin Changkyun has _ever_ seen, and he was _still_ smirking and waggling the bottle of lube around (he recovered from that dick comment  _way_ fast) and _ugh_ , this was the worst.

“ _You’re_ the one holding a bottle of lube and grinning at me like I’m a midnight snack,” Changkyun said, almost wanting to snatch the bottle out of Kihyun’s hand and fucking throw it across the store.

“And _you’re_ the one buying tissues, a cucumber, and possibly lube.”

“ _For the last_ \--” Changyun sighed. “You know, when I said ‘seriously’, I meant it. Why are you here? Aren’t you tired?”

Kihyun’s grin, which had been holding strong for their entire, well, _conversation_ is a bit of a stretch, faltered, eyes going hooded.

“Hmpf,” he sniffed, finally placing the bottle on the counter again. “Why do you care? I’m just the pretty barista who gives you your coffee, right? _Everyone_ knows people who work in the service industry don’t have real lives.”

_Yeah, and idols are just pretty faces there for your entertainment._

“I kind of wish you weren’t, then maybe I wouldn’t be so embarrassed and concerned about your well-being at the same time.” Changkyun paused. Concerned? Was he? Well. This guy obviously had more than one job. It was almost dawn. Nobody should be working at dawn.

Kihyun’s face did a strange thing, somewhere between a scowl, a frown, and a smile, before it flattened out in a slightly neutral expression.

“Ah, don’t be so serious. I wasn’t…” Kihyun sighed, hand going to cover his face for a second, before he looked up and placed the bottle of lube to the side, giving Changkyun’s total in a very professional voice.

“I think you forgot something,” Changkyun tried, trying on a nervous smile (which wasn’t far from the truth), his heart plummeting slightly as he saw the way Kihyun almost _physically_ removed himself from, well, from the situation. As if Kihyun, at least the one Changkyun had seen the few times, wasn’t there anymore, and only the corporate employee remained.

Kihyun glanced up at him, a question in his eyes, (but also a distance that wasn’t there before.)

Okay. He was really going to embarrass himself (even _more_ ) to make a cute boy laugh, wasn’t he?

“You were right, I’m running low, and I seriously don’t want to have, um, cucumber burn or whatever.”

This time, a small smile appeared, for a second, on Kihyun’s face, before disappearing behind a raised eyebrow.

“Really?”

“If I say yes, will you laugh?”

And, really, even though Changkyun kinda felt like stepping in front of a truck, the small, delighted little giggle that escaped Kihyun was really. Well, it was something, all right. Dammit. He needed to stop crushing on the barista boy. Not healthy, Changkyun. And probably never, ever gonna happen. Not only was it _highly_ unlikely he’d _ever_ get this boy, not with what just happened, but also… his career was just starting off.

Changkyun shook his head slightly, smiling as a still giggling Kihyun rang up the lube and waved him off with a shake of his head and an eye-roll. It wasn’t that serious. Harmless flirtation with the cute… well. With the cute guy. That was all. It wasn’t like it was going to, ever, evolve into something he’ll have to deal with seriously.

 

\- * - * - 

 

 

\- * - * - 

 

 _“It was like that when I was young_  
_I said I’d become a scientist and grabbed a pencil, shit_  
_the eraser said_  
_that’s not it, and erased everything I wrote_  
_what’s that in the mirror, I didn’t even know myself_  
_because I didn’t want to become an adult my doubts grew_  
_whatever I had planned to become or planned to do was scary._ ”

Jooheon whooped loudly on the other side of the glass. Changkyun couldn’t actually _hear_ the whoop. But he saw the whoop. He felt the whoop. There was a distinctly whoop shaped movement on Jooheon’s side and Hyungwon was laughing so it must have been quite a whoop.

Changkyun laughed into the microphone.

Jooheon pressed a button in front of him, so Changkyun could hear him.

“That’s my _boy!_ Right there! My boy.”

Changkyun laughed again.

“I’m fairly certain my mother would protest that statement.”

Jooheon took his finger off the button to wave him off and then over. Changkyun took off the heavy headphones, still not really… used to any of this. Not really. Recording booths and interviews and--yeah, he’d never get used to it. Jooheon--nationally renowned, award winning, famous spitfire rapper Lee motherfucking _Jooheon_ \--had taken it upon himself to snuggle Changkyun tightly under his wing and keep him there. Hyungwon--model, actor, DJ, singer, dancer and choreographer, beautiful Hyungwon--had sort of… stuck around after the three of them collaborated on ‘Interstellar’ a few months ago.

He sincerely liked both of them, and found it incredible that they seemed to like him back. Jooheon helped him with his rap and had quickly turned into one of the closest friends Changkyun had ever had. Hyungwon helped him with... almost everything, including his horrific nerves the first time the company threw a photoshoot at him and sung a bit for Changkyun who did _not even remotely_ feel comfortable enough singing. On anything. Ever.

It was amazing. They worked together, they laughed together, his twitter and VLive following grew daily and he’d even heard talks of a fansite popping up after their Interstellar music video reached a handful of millions on YouTube, but… Wow.

Don’t get him wrong, Changkyun was _incredibly_ grateful for all of it, but it just felt… unreal. Still, after five months, it still didn’t seem like something that could actually be happening to _him_ of all people. Not that he hadn’t been working his _ass_ off for every bit of it, because, hell, he’d left his parents behind to come back to South Korea and do this. He’d worked job after job after job and still went home and wrote and rapped and did his frickin’ skincare ritual and it was _hard_.

It was hard and back-breaking and it sure as fuck wasn’t as romantic as all the poems made starving artists out to be and Changkyun had gone to sleep hungry and cold more than once but…

He made it. Finally. He was here. He did it.

He wasn’t sure if he would call all of it, all the late nights and coming home from a shift where he couldn’t seem to do _anything_ right and where his manager kept yelling at him and threatening to fire him and then _still_ sitting down to write, to get at _least_ a hundred words out, to do _something_ , worth it. He had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t.

But, he was here. He’d made it. He was making music all day _every day_ and it was amazing and it was still… still a lot of hard work, really. Different people yelling at you, or not so much yelling as making thinly veiled comments about failing idols but…

Yeah. He was just really, _really_ grateful to Hyungwon and Jooheon.

The absolute shits.

Changkyun made his way around to join them, Hyungwon nursing a cup of tea and staring into the distance and Jooheon still animatedly grinning at him.

“You look like shit,” Hyungwon commented absently, still staring at his tea. “Did you sleep even a little bit last night?”

“Listen,” Changkyun said, before the _idea of sleep itself_ weaseled a yawn out of him. “Yes. Not enough. But I had a cucumber, so it’s fine.”

Hyungwon rolled his eyes, a small smile pulling at his stupidly full lips. “Fair enough, you get used to living on two hours of sleep after a while.”

“Mmm,” Jooheon hummed. “Dealing with bullshit while sleep deprived makes it all so much easier. You just kinda giggle at it because after a week going on six hours of sleep total it all just seems like one big hallucination.”

Changkyun laid down on his arm, poking at Hyungwon’s tea with his index finger. “I’m so glad you guys fill me in on the true horror of this life I chose.”

“Get your germy fingers out of my tea,” Hyungwon groused, still sitting absolutely still and taking a sip of said tea.

Changkyun pouted, hand falling. “But I’m the maknae.”

“We’re not a boy band, Changkyun.”

“Yeah, but we totally could be.”

“Still,” Hyungwon slapped Changkyun’s hand, again sneaking towards the tea, “stay the fuck away from my tea.”

Jooheon looked up from his phone, giggling a little. “I can’t believe you have fans already. They want to open a coffee shop with your name, you know?”

Changkyun smiled. “That is _exactly_ the kind of legacy that I want.”

“It’s because you were lusting over coffee, not _tea,_ ” Hyungwon slapped at Changkyun’s hand again. “On your twitter. Like you always do.”

“I wasn’t talking about coffee. I kind of was? No I wasn’t.”

Hyungwon pursed his lips at Changkyun, a considering tilt to his head, before carefully placing his cup of tea on the table and leaning forward.

“Well, seeing as you spoiled my tea, I demand you give me other tea.” He grinned, before turning towards Jooheon. “Did I use that meme right?”

“For an actual meme, you know incredibly little about memes.”

“And _that’s_ the tea.”

“I used it right, you brats.”

“Seriously, though,” Jooheon said, still scrolling idly through his phone, leaning back in the chair. “Mad Clown is running a bit late. We have time. Spill.”

“Would you believe me if I said I was looking at pictures of Taemin and just felt inspired?”

“I would, but usually when you do that it’s with a lot more emojis and thirsting.” Hyungwon smacked his lips, looking sadly at his cup. “I need more tea. Also, how anyone will believe you’re heterosexual is beyond me.”

“Irene and I will team up and take the world by storm.”

“Ah, queer solidarity,” Jooheon sighed.

“I actually wanted to call my album that as a shout-out to you guys, but alas.”

“I feel like you’re ignoring the tea, and the fact that I need actual tea.”

“Good, cos I am.” Changkyun huffed. “I don’t know, okay, it’s not important.”

Jooheon nearly scrambled forwards, phone cast away and smile wide. “Hey, that sounds important, tell me more.”

“But my tea…” Hyungwon mumbled wistfully, before sighing and scooting forwards, resting his head on his hands and peering at Changkyun.

Changkyun peered back. Hyungwon pouted. It was adorable. Goddammit.

He took his hyung’s cup and walked over to the little beverage station in the corner of the room. Jooheon bounced in his seat.

“Kyun- _aaaaaaaaah_ ,” Jooheon whined, like he wasn’t older than Changkyun.

Changkyun sighed, a big, long-suffering, full-bellied sigh.

“ _Fine_ , I’ll get you one too.”

Jooheon paused. “Different kind of tea, but cool, I’ll take both.”

“It’s not that--I don’t know, okay! I just met… someone. Who I think is incredibly pretty and their smile made my belly do things, okay? And they’re very sarcastic and giggles very cutely and… stuff. Okay, cool. Two sugars or?”

“Changkyun, you can’t just say stuff like that and not expect me to-- wait what are you doing you know I drink three sugars, don’t make me drink nasty bitter leaf water.”

Hyungwon blinked at Jooheon. “No sugars for me, thanks. I actually appreciate pancreatic function.”

Changkyun kept the sugar far away from Hyungwon’s tea, basically dumping all of it into his and Jooheon’s. “I’m not talking about it because it’s not a thing and it’ll never work, anyway.”

“Why? _No,_ oh my god, you give me my tea _first_ , I’m the _eldest_.”

“Is that why you’re greying?”

“It’s _blonde_ ,” Hyungwon stressed, as Changkyun dutifully placed his tea in front of him. “You need to learn some respect you brat, especially in the idol industry and--”

Changkyun petted Hyungwon’s blonde, definitely not greying hair. “Of course, hyung. Your knowledge and old man wisdom is the reason I’m still here.”

“Of course it is. Now, why wouldn’t it work?”

Changkyun sighed, deeply, like he had a husband away for military service that wouldn’t come back in _years_. “He hates rapping.”

Jooheon choked on his tea.

Hyungwon made a face at his tea, but then shrugged.

“I guess it’s not for everyone. Also, I wanted honey tea, Changkyunnie.”

Changkyun pouted. “He called me Changkyunnie. It was adorable.”

“You can’t crush on someone who doesn’t appreciate art.”

Hyungwon scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Also, I feel like we’re not paying attention to the important issues. Which, namely, I have no honey tea.”

“He likes IU. He’d date IU. I can’t sing like that. I can’t sing at all.”

“You’re in a self-deprecation spiral, kiddo, reel it in.”

"That's not true, you know it, I know it, make me some tea."

Changkyun grunted, taking Hyungwon’s tea and walking back to the station to add some goddamn fucking honey.

“Ooh, I know! Get famous enough and you can collab with her and make _him_ jealous.”

Changkyun turned to squint at Jooheon. “Seriously, dude.”

“I don’t know, man, I love love.”

“That makes no sense but okay.”

“You realise you’re debuting soon, right,” Hyungwon added, frowning at his cup. “Changkyun, there’s a tin there with like, honey tea bags. Like, actual honey-infused tea.”

“Noooo, totally haven’t been marking the days off on my calendar or anything.” Changkyun paused, glancing at the tin. “But I already made tea. Can’t you just add honey and it infuses its damn self?”

Hyungwon pouted and shook his head. “No but like, then it’s just like adding sugar. Like, it’s _not the same_. Changkyuuuuun.”

Changkyun sighed, blowing, hard onto the tea. “Lemme just vore this real quick, then.”

“You know, I just _love_ how you two seem to completely lose sight of literally anything important in the midst of whatever fucking tea debacle seems to be happening right now. Riveting stuff, guys, next time get a camera and do a VLive or something, but for the love of--”

“Tea is _important_ , Jooheon.”

“So is your dongsaeng’s dick, hyung.”

Hyungwon paused, before looking at Changkyun with a slightly traumatized look on his face.

“Never make me think about stuff like that again.”

“Then shut up about tea for like five minutes.”

“But my honey tea--”

“So, Changkyun, are you a top or--”

“I’ll shut up! Tea is a distant memory! I beg you.”

Changkyun, choking slightly on the tea he was desperately trying to finish, not sure if he was laughing or crying. “Christ, Jooheon-hyung, I appreciate your sudden interest but uhm, it’s not--” Changkyun saw, clearly, in a memory so clear it was like rewinding a video, a cucumber. He started choking again.

“...Do I _want_ to know?”

“I don’t even want to know,” Changkyun said, tummy sloshing with tea as he made another cup. “This tin?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you.”

“ _Nod_ , or something.”

Hyungwon nodded.

“Great. Now. Jooheon.”

“Yeeees?”

“He was cute. That was it. Okay? And yeah, I might go back again. They have nice coffee. And incredibly interesting baristas. Hyungwon-hyung would like them, I think. Especially the--” Changkyun made a vague gesture. “Short one. Well, shorter one. I think. But anyway, like you said, hyung,” Changkyun said, placing the now honey-infused tea in front of Hyungwon. “I’m debuting soon. Dating anyone, _especially_ a guy, right now, wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do. I can handle a simple crush.”

“A simple crush, huh?” Hyungwon sniffed at the tea, and gave an appreciative little sigh. “Ah, this is good tea.”

“It’s not been five minutes so now I am legally obligated to ask if you weren’t even _considering_ hitting that.”

“I’m not _blind_ , or Hyungwon, or _dead_ , so, like, _obviously_.”

“Nice.”

“I somehow feel like you’re living through me vicariously, hyung.”

Jooheon pouted. “Shut up. I never see Gun and this fucknut--” Jooheon pointed at a thoroughly put out looking Hyungwon, who idly mumbled ‘respect your elders’. “Hogs a perfectly good piece of meat to do nothing but cuddle and watch Buzzfeed Unsolved.”

Hyungwon lifts his cup of tea in a mock cheer. “Asexual culture! Seriously though, that’s the best show and--”

“Wait, Hoseok’s asexual? He’s nearly always half-naked.”

Hyungwon frowned at Changkyun. “No? Why would you think he’s asexual?”

Changkyun blinked. “Damn. That was incredibly stupid of me.”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t seen Gun in _weeks, please just_ _indulge me, Kyun_ \--”

“There’s nothing to indulge you with! Nothing’s happened, nothing will, and I’d really like to go through these lines with you again before Clown shows up.”

“Oh my god just--”

“Oh my _god_. Hyungwon, stop your ears for a sec and let the grown-ups talk.”

Hyungwon obediently placed his hands over his ears.

Jooheon stared at Changkyun. Changkyun stared back. They squinted in tandem and Changkyun caved as quickly as Jooheon decided to pull some kind of _ridiculous_ face that was probably _supposed_ to look suggestive.

“Hyung.”

“Yes?”

“I switch.”

Jooheon let out a low whistle. “Niiiice.” He waved his hand in front of Hyungwon’s face, who lowered his hands and smiled, content on not having heard any of--

“Changkyun’s a switch.”

“ _Godfuckingdammit_.”

 

\- * - * - 

 


	2. #mood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agustlovesD? agustloveD? who knows, but I know I'm too lazy to fix it

 

\- * - * - 

 

This wasn’t working. None of it was working. Not this tiny room, not this shitty coffee, nothing he was writing was _working_ , and laying with his forehead on his laptop keyboard was just making really odd sounds and he shouldn’t be doing it but _ugh_.

(Sometimes the random key-smashes actually produced something that sounded kinda okay, you know, like 8bit or some shit, but every time he tried to recreate it after, it was an absolute _disaster_ , so that worked well.)

He needed… Something. A second opinion? Nah, Jooheon was busy (and Changkyun honestly didn’t want to rely on the other rapper more than he had to) and Hyungwon was just as likely to send him on a string of meaningless errands as he was to help him with lyrics. And, however ‘fun’ it was being Hyungwon’s personal slave, not today, thanks.

When was the last time he wrote something he liked? Changkyun lifted his head to scroll through his list of audio files (there was a fine line between his “THE SHIT” folder and his “SHIT” folder. Usually it had to do with how desperate he was to make things work).

_Hook - UNTITLED 5_

There. When had he done this?

_2018/02/03 - 19:48_

He squinted. Mmm. He remembered that; he’d been just… horrifically awkward in that damn coffee shop, but he’d also come back here, slammed the door, put on his earphones, and vowed to write the best goddamn rap song in the world because Kihyun was _wrong_ and he’d prove it.

Wincing, slightly, hoping it was anything like he remembered it being (hoped it was), he pressed play.

Changkyun nodded along a bit, then paused, chewing his pencil.

That wasn’t… half bad.

Would Kihyun like it?

...No, Changkyun, bad Changkyun, would the goddamn _music industry_ , _your_ (few) _fans_ , _Jooheon and Hyungwon_ like it. Because, of course. Those were the important people. Ahem.

Not a barista (cashier? Both) who didn’t even like rap music.

He chewed his pencil. He kept chewing.

(He stopped when he felt a suspiciously malicious splinter poking at his gums. He’d already been through that hell once, thank you very much.)

 _Fuck it_.

He grabbed his backpack, shoved his laptop, charger, notepad, headphones and… another pencil into it, fixed his hair, put on proper pants, squinted at himself a bit ( _he looked fine, stop it_ ), realized he should put on his glasses, checked Twitter (it was a necessity at this point, honestly), debated taking a selca (because the hasn’t slept in 27 hours and was only standing because of caffeine look was just, like, _so hot_ ), before just slinging the backpack over his back and heading towards almost certain disaster.

Aka, going to sit and ‘artfully’ be writing music in the coffee shop. Because he was that kind of person.

(And this was _definitely_ not just because he was starving for some interaction with Kihyun. One would think talking about lubed cucumbers would cure him of that particular want but… he was a simple man. Of course, if anyone asked, he was there for the ‘atmosphere’. Yeah, he could pull that off.)

This was going to be _fine_.

 

\- * - * - 

 

 

\- * - * - 

 

Kihyun was having a literal _hell_ of a day.

He’d just worked a nine hour shift at the convenience store, then, on his way home, looking forward to at _least_ seven hours of uninterrupted sleep, he got a call from his manager, frantic, because a co-worker (some kid Kihyun had had minimal contact with), decided to quit on short notice and they were short-staffed.

And, of course, because Kihyun was a desperate motherfucker who couldn’t resist the lure of possibly not being sick with worry about this month’s rent, he caved and there he was, with barely two hours of sleep under his belt, serving coffee to college students who seemed like they had too much free time and various business men and women who never get off of their phones. Like ever.

Today was a _day_ , okay.

And it was only--Kihyun groaned, glancing at the clock. Eleven.

Well, fuck this. He wasn’t going to smile anymore. He didn’t _care_ if his manager insisted on _positive body language_ and an _approachable_ manner, he didn’t _care_ , okay. He was tired and sore and have been on his feet about seven hours too long.

“Yo. Do I ask for a table or just sort of sit down somewhere or…”

Kihyun glanced up, glaring, a headache starting to throb behind his eyes, and saw Changkyun, wearing round glasses that made him look a little bit like an anime character, standing in front of him, smile fading quickly.

“You can place an order and sit down. One of us will bring it to you.”

And like, Kihyun was _sorry_ , okay. He was _sorry_ he wasn’t able to smile, but, right now, even an _actual_ puppy would have irritated him. In fact, he was pretty sure if he actually saw a puppy at that moment he would strangle it.

Changkyun shifted, adjusting the strap of his backpack and frowning softly. “Right. Thanks. Uhm. You can’t maybe point me to a table with a plug? Sorry, I just need to work on something on my laptop. Er. Sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m just _peachy_ ,” Kihyun gritted out. God, why was everything so _irritating_. “Just, the tables at the windows should all be pretty near to a power outlet.”

“Thanks,” he said, before shifting again. “Can I buy _you_ a coffee? J-just cos you look tired! I’m not--”

“I don’t like coffee.”

Changkyun glanced around, eyebrow slightly raised. “I can see why you hate this place, then. Tea?”

Kihyun sighed.

“Listen, kid, it’s nothing personal, I promise you, but can you please just, like, go over there and not talk to me for a bit. I’ll bring you your… Americano, right?”

Changkyun nodded, scratching at the back of his neck. “Yeah. I can do that, thanks, er,” Changkyun turned around, apparently done with his sentence, head ducked and bee-lining for the table at the far end of the windows.

Yoongi, sidling up next to Kihyun, tutted and shook his head.

“Really, Kihyun? That’s how you treat your crush? I mean, I know you’re tsundere and all--”

“Yoongi, please,” Kihyun gritted his teeth. Just four more hours, just four more and he was done for the day. “Not today. Just, not today.”

Yoongi pouted, mournfully. “But it’s my only source of joy in this hell-scape. Can I go bother the kid, then?”

Kihyun shrugged, handing Yoongi the Americano he had already made.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, man. Just leave me alone. And give this to him.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one he wants giving _anything_ to him, thanks,” Yoongi grumbled, coffee in hand.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who wanted to go and bother him anyway. So, go ahead.”

“To annoy _you_ , it’s no fun if you play along.”

“You need more friends.”

“Listen, I’m not disagreeing with you here--Kihyun, don’t just--” Yoongi sighed. “Yeah, he’s gone.”

\- * - * - 

 

Changkyun felt like a popped balloon. Deflated and... bad at metaphors.

He settled into the corner, opening his laptop and putting his hood up (to be _inconspicuous and shit_ ) over his headphones, because hey, Kihyun’s smile might not grace him today, but at least there was a power outlet. Bright side of life, etc etc.

He bent down to plug in his laptop, ducking under the table, and hit his head on the table when he saw an approaching barista. Great. Now Kihyun didn’t even want to give him his coffee, if Yoongi heading his way with a cup in his hand was any indication.

Changkyun rubbed at the back of his head (ow) and sat down, feeling sheepish as he opened his laptop.

“Hey kid. Here’s your cup of death.”

“If only,” Changkyun mumbled, pressing the wrong button on his keyboard and blasting music through his poor, poor inbuilt laptop speakers to the height of their shitty capacity before quickly pressing the same button again with a wince. “Sorry.”

Yoongi placed the cup next to his laptop, before stepping slightly back and glancing at the counter where Kihyun was currently glaring at the clock mounted on the wall.

“Listen… I know Kihyun is a bit of a dick today…”

Changkyun looked up at him with a soft frown. “Today?”

Yoongi let out a choked laugh, hand covering up to cover his mouth.

“Hah, yeah, fair. But, just to let you know, he isn’t always like this. He’s just tired. And he said you were cute the last time you were here. So.” Yoongi grinned.

Changkyun blinked. “Wait. He did?

“Oh, _definitely_.”

“Oh.” Changyun could feel himself blush. “I kind of came here today to flirt with him a bit but I don’t think the mood is quite _right_ , y’know."

Yoongi did a funny little jump while his grin grew even wider.

“You came to _flirt_ with him? Oh my, you are _precious_.” Yoongi glanced over at Kihyun again. “But, no, yeah, I think he might actually use the milk frother on you if you tried talking to him again today.” Yoongi shrugged. “Sorry kid.”

Changkyun pouted, before puffing out a breath, glancing at his laptop. It was mocking him.

“I mean, last time he was in a mood like this, he almost made someone cry.” Yoongie paused for a moment, before shrugging.  “That someone _might_ have been me.”

Changkyun laughed, digging for his headphones in his bag. He might as well _try_ , right. He already had coffee and he put on _pants_ and he _left his room_ and _everything_ . “Did he diss Jooheon again? _I_ nearly snapped and I actually want the man to like me.”

Yoongi shuddered, shaking his head.

“Don’t remind me of that sacrilege. Jooheon is maybe the only person younger than me I actually look up to.”

Changkyun grinned. It was _incredibly_ difficult for him not to go on one of his ‘I adore Jooheon and everything he stands for, especially if it’s in tight leather pants’ rants because he was almost a hundred percent sure he’d slip up and… yeah, he was still not completely sure why he didn’t want them to know, but he just. Didn’t.

“Doesn’t he have a concert coming up soon?”

 _Yeah, dumbass, you’re in it_.

“Yup. But, between my almost non-existent salary and paying rent, it’s almost not worth my knowing about it. Hey, what do you do? Studying? You probably can’t go either, can you?”

Yoongi looked so genuinely sad for him, that Changkyun felt a legitimate pang of guilt in his stomach. At least a pang.

“It’s a--I’m, er--I will _not_ be in the crowd of that particular event, no, er--” Your shit, Changkyun, get it together. “I’m studying music, actually.” Close enough. Like, he would really be studying music if he hadn’t gotten the contract, so… Technically, on some level, true.

“ _Nice_ ,” Yoongi hummed, giving Changkyun an appreciative once over. The guilt. Oh, lord, the guilt. “Specialising in some type of instrument? Or voice? Or are you,” Yoongi glanced at Changkyun’s laptop screen, the program for his music already open. “Ah, producing?”

Changkyun laughed nervously, pushing his laptop screen down. Just a bit. “Yep! Definitely not the singing type--” More laughing. Stop it, _oh my god_. “Actually came here for, er,” Changkyun glanced at the counter. Like an easy to read, open book, transparent moron. “Inspiration? Coffee? I, er.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi waved him away. “I know you came here to ogle Mr Grumpy Pants over there, and, yes, his butt is real, I have felt it, but--”

“You did what now--”

“You know, a little friendly butt squeezing between friends. Coworkers. Semantics. He didn’t want to reciprocate, sadly, so he doesn’t know what _this_ ass feels like, but his loss, I guess.”

Changkyun had an incredibly vivid recollection of the time he played Wonho’s ass like they were incredibly firm bongos. Which was probably on the internet. Somewhere. Because Hyungwon thought it was hilarious and none of Changkyun’s begging had changed his mind. It didn’t help that Wonho had been giggling the whole time either.

“Right. That can happen.”

Yoongi nodded, before jumping slightly when Kihyun yelled at him, a slightly panicky note in his voice as a swarm of teenage girls converged on the counter.

“Duty calls,” Yoongi sing-songed, winking at Changkyun before hurrying off to the counter, pushing Kihyun aside and towards the coffee machine with a practised hand. Which, Changkyun thought, was probably for the better, given how Kihyun had looked about three seconds away from pouring a cup of coffee on the next person who spoke to him. Delegating him to making the coffees was probably the safest bet.

Kihyun’s almost offended frown at the next customer made Changkyun chuckle a little, before shaking his head, plugging in his headphones, and trying to remind himself of what he was _supposed to be doing_. Even if Kihyun wasn’t in the best of moods, Changkyun would survive. Hyungwon might judge his lyrics later, but hey, he always did that anyway. He took in a deep breath, started up his song, and listened critically. Ten times.

Maybe slamming his head down on the table would help.

It didn’t.

 

\- * - * - 

 

 

\- * - * - 

 

Kihyun had now, officially, been working for 14 hours with a 2 hours sleep break in between. He had been pissed when he arrived, done with the world and just, you know, on that level of bitchy where he could have stolen candy from a baby and eaten it in front of them.

But, now, after almost a full shift again, he was just… empty. He didn’t care. His hands were working on automatic, dead eyes staring at customers as they put in their order and he went about making it, saying the _absolute_ minimum and counting on Yoongi’s dubious social skills to keep them from losing any customers. (Not that Kihyun gave a single shit about that, he just wasn’t keen on getting fired.)

So, when Changkyun finally walked up to the counter again, wallet out and head ducked slightly as he approached Kihyun, Kihyun could barely muster up enough energy to _not_ actively scowl at the poor kid. It wasn’t like he did anything wrong. It wasn’t like it was his fault Kihyun was a walking corpse, and, surprisingly, walking corpses aren’t the nicest people.

“You… want to pay?” It took an embarrassingly long time for Kihyun to say that sentence, tired as he was.

“Seemed preferable to going to jail for a cup of coffee, so.”

As Kihyun held out a hand for the money, he suddenly remembered that he had made a promise to himself last time the kid was there. A promise including money and coffee and… Oh, yeah.

“Hold on,” he mumbled, tapping at the computer screen. “I need to reprint your bill. The first americano is free.”

“...Is there a special on?”

“No.”

“...Was it poisoned?”

Kihyun frowned at Changkyun. His brain was too fucking tired for this shit.

“No, why the fuck would it be poisoned?”

“I don’t know, why the fuck would it be free?”

Oh. Right. Changkyun didn’t know about Kihyun’s promise. Hm. Right.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s on me.” There he goes. A nice explanation.

Changkyun blushed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You, er--why? I mean, you didn’t have to do that. Like. At all. Am I missing something really stupid and obvious?”

Kihyun blinked. Why was Changkyun asking stupid questions.

“Because you gave me a big tip. And I know I was mean. And you’re cute.”

Why was Changkyun blushing… Oh, wait. Shit.

“I-- I mean--” Kihyun started, blinking frantically and trying to get his tired brain to put at least _some_ type of filter on his mouth.

“See, I told you he said you were cute,” Yoongi chirped from behind Kihyun, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You told him _what_?!”

Changkyun tried to hide behind his hands, clearly forgetting that he was wearing glasses and knocking them off his face and over the counter. “ _Oh, my god_.”

“I like to live dangerously, Kihyun. Besides I’m pretty sure you’re too tired to actually kill me right now.”

“You don’t like to _live_ if you say shit like that--”

“You’re being angry and frowney in front of the cute boy with fantastic music taste that you just bought a coffee for. Priorities.”

Kihyun gaped at Yoongi, torn between wanting to strangle him and wanting to not look like a homicidal maniac in front of Changkyun.

“Go ahead and kill him if you want, I can’t even distinguish between the two of you without my glasses.”

“You know, that’s faintly insulting. I’m taller than him,” Kihyun grumbled, reaching one hand out to swat Yoongi over the head. Yoongi ducked out of the way, still grinning, before smacking Kihyun’s ass and making a run for it.

Changkyun laughed, badly disguising it with a cough as Kihyun turned to him, before just giving in and laughing. “I can't _see_ , Kihyun.”

Kihyun frowned, before looking down and seeing the glasses on the counter. “Oh, right. Hold on.” Kihyun picked up the glasses and, before his higher reasoning could stop him, could tell him how incredibly stupid he was being, he was gently placing Changkyun’s glasses on his face, thumbs lingering slightly on his soft skin, before he met the wide eyes of Changkyun and realised what he was doing. “Oh. Sorry. I could’ve handed you the glasses.”

“It's fine,” Changkyun squeaked, like a man.

Kihyun cleared his throat, shrugged, tried to rack his brain for a response, and came up with, “I’m just… tired.”

Changkyun's eyes softened perceptively, a crease at his brow. “I'm sorry. I get it. Being tired, I mean. It's… Numbing.”

Kihyun breathed out, lifting a hand to rub at his forehead, hoping to relieve that headache that’s been building for the… a few hours now, at least. “It’s fine. Not your fault. Nothing you can do about it. Which… was also why I was being a bit of a dick earlier.” Kihyun winced. “Sorry about that.”

“Hey, no worries,” Changkyun smiled, so brightly Kihyun felt like he should be squinting. “I was just… Stuck on something. Thought coming here might help a bit.”

Kihyun tapped at the computer screen, finishing the transaction. “Did it? I mean, help?”

Changkyun hummed, hiking his laptop bag up on his shoulder. “Mmm, a little. Might have to come back again, though…” Changkyun swayed a little on the spot. “See what happens.”

Now, if Kihyun was at full wakefulness, if he hadn’t been on his feet for more than 12 hours at that point, maybe, _maybe_ , he would’ve thought through his next response. Maybe he would have been a bit, like, _slightly_ , appropriate. Instead, he had a thought and, like an idiot, blurted it out. “Are you flirting with me?”

Changkyun laughed, slapping his (now red) cheek a little. When he spoke it sounded pained. “ _Uhm,_ yeah? A little? Have been for a while now. Shit, I'm sorry.”

Kihyun blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh.” He folded his hands in front of him, suddenly overly conscious of the fact that he had no idea what to do with his hands. Or his arms. Was he standing like a normal person? It didn’t feel like it. “That’s interesting.”

“I'll just…” Changkyun widened his eyes at the counter, nodding. “Go. Oh my god.”

“Wait.” His arms still felt too big, too awkward, but there was a tiny little fluttering in his stomach, a certain kind of warmth that Kihyun hadn’t felt since… well, since high school, when he still had hope that maybe he would actually get to sing as a career. “I--I mean. Were you-- did you want to-- were you gonna ask for my number? Maybe? I mean, I don’t know. You don’t have to. It’s stupid.”

“Actually,” Changkyun flushed, reaching into his jacket pocket and holding put a carefully folded napkin, eyes scrunching shut in embarrassment. “I was gonna try and be brave and give you mine. Hah.”

Kihyun flushed, taking the napkin carefully. “Okay. Cool. I’ll… text you? This sounds stupid, but yeah. I’ll do that.”

“It doesn't sound stupid,” Changkyun mumbled, smiling with one corner of his mouth, eyes still turned down. “So. You wouldn't mind if I came around again tomorrow or..?”

Kihyun shook his head. This was painfully awkward, and Kihyun didn’t know what to say, but he had a cute boy in front of him and, and… yeah.

Yeah.

“See you then,” Changkyun said, simply, giving a little bow before turning on his heels and walking out of the coffee shop.

Kihyun stared after him, before looking down at the number on the napkin he was holding. So. That just happened. Interesting.

“Look at you _go_ ,” came a delighted, mischievous behind him, and Kihyun jumped before turning around to glare at Yoongi, who shrugged, holding out his hands palms up. “What? I’m congratulating you on getting the number of a cute boy! Like a _good friend_.”

Kihyun scoffed. “I’d say it’s your turn, then. Are you _ever_ going to make a move on that blonde kid?”

“ _Hell_ no.” Yoongi shook his head vehemently, eyes wide. “He comes to me for _advice_ about guys. What kind of dick would I be if I came onto him?”

“True, it’d be terrible advice to tell him to go out with you, what was I thinking.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and picked up a tray to hit him over the head with it, before collecting two drinks and taking them to their respective tables. Kihyun let out a long, slow breath, slumping onto the counter just a little.

 

\- * - * - 

 

\- * - * - 

 

Changkyun’s lungs were collapsing, he was sure of it. He slumped against the wall, practically inhaling his bottle of water.

“Hyungwon, I’m dying.”

Hyungwon raised an eyebrow from where he was slumped against a wall, scrolling through his phone. “You’ve only been practising that move for an hour, Changkyun. You _cannot_ be tired already.”

“ _Dancers,_ ” Changkyun hissed, stumbling to his feet and ruffling his hair. “No sympathy for us lesser beings.”

“Well, you know, I can sing _and_ dance. In fact, do you want me to call Hoseok in here?” Hyungwon smiled angelically. “I’m sure he’ll be _happy_ to help.”

“I’m sure he would be. Help with what, though,” Changkyun squinted at himself, (Sweaty, he thought) in the mirror. “Looking like an otter is sexy right?”

“Very sexy,” Hyungwon said consolingly. “I just thought he could come in here and help you practise that for the next two hours. Which is when this session ends, as I’m sure you remember.”

Changkyun squinted at Hyungwon. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something other than bothering me?”

“I’m here to _help you,_ ungrateful brat, but feel free to keep your bitching directed at me.”

Changkyun groaned. “Sorry. I’m just,” Changkyun pouted and moved his arms limply like a rag doll. “A rapper. Dancing doesn’t just _happen_.”

Hyungwon tilted his head thoughtfully.”‘You’re a rapper, yeah, but you’re also an idol. Dancing comes with the territory.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Changkyun mumbled, glancing at his bag (with his phone in it, the phone that could get a message any time now, something that definitely did NOT come with the territory.) “Random question,” Changkyun started, reaching down to touch his toes in a stretch. “But how long were you and Hoseok dating before you just decided to stop giving a fuck?”

Hyungwon started slightly, actually looking up from his phone. “ _Very_ random question, yes, I agree.”

“You know linear thinking and I don’t get along,” Changkyun defended, trying to look focused on his stretching. “What, you don’t wanna answer?”

“It’s not that it’s just… well, it’s not really important? I mean, obviously we both had to establish our fanbases first, and feel confident enough that we were making enough money for the company and that our fans loved us enough if we came out as both dating _and_ gay, but like, why do you even wanna know?” Hyungwon narrowed his eyes. “You’re still a _long_ way away from anything like that, buddy. Keep yourself reigned in.”

Right. Terrible idea, then, to like a guy before even debuting. Right.

“Just preparing myself for the future,” Changkyun tried to joke, remembering how abashed Kihyun had looked earlier and knowing he really should feel a bit worse about what he’d done. He’s given a boy his phone number, knowing full well they couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t take it further, because he was an _idol_ , or a soon to be one, and he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t allowed. Changkyun straightened up from his stretch and let out a groan at Hyungwon’s expression. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what? I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“You’re looking at me the exact same way you did when I walked in here and you knew I had a difficult move to practise. Like you know something. Stop that.”

“Well, maybe I _do_ know something.” Hyungwon lifted his eyebrows. “I might not know what it is, but I _might_.”

“Going to share with the class?” Changkyun said, aware he was going a bit… hard on the defensive.

“Um, no. I don’t think so. Watching you get red in the face and pretending not to care is a lot more fun.” Hyungwon smiled angelically. “Also, Hoseok said he was on his way.”

“Don’t look at me like that either,” Changkyun grumbled.

“I have a beautiful smile, and you will give it the appreciation it deserves.”

Changkyun rolled his eyes, trying to coordinate his limbs as he watched himself in the mirror. It really didn’t have to be this hard. “If I keep dancing like this I won’t _have_ to worry about the idol life.”

Hyungwon waved one lazy hand, languidly getting to his feet. “You’ll get it. Listen, just, look.” Hyungwon went to stand next to Changkyun, adjusted himself, and performed the move. It wasn’t perfect, wasn’t smooth, but Changkyun was sure that Hyungwon was performing it _way_ better than he had. “See?” he said, smiling. “Just, like, move like that. Just better than I did, of course.”

“Okay, yes, but like,” Changkyun started, fully aware that he was about to tangent off into a totally unneeded metaphor. “What if you can’t get your body to move the way you want it to? Like, you tell it to do the thing, and it doesn’t, and then it does something completely else and it’s not your fault because you’re not really _thinking_ and then you’ve already done it and you can’t take it back but you don’t really want to and--”

“Changkyun!” Hyungwon was frowning at him, hands on his hips. “Changkyun, calm down. I know this is hard, believe me, I know. I’ve been there. But you need to _chill out_.”

Changkyun held his fist against his mouth, looking at Hyungwon evenly, as calmly as he could. “Okay. Okay. This is fine. I mean. It doesn't matter if I dance a bit badly, right?”

Yeah, this wasn't working. Changkyun was definitely panicking a little bit but hey, it was _fine._

Hyungwon smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “Oh, no, it definitely does matter. But, hey, you wouldn’t have been signed on if the company didn’t think you had what it takes.”

Changkyun pushed his fist against his mouth again, keeping a small, panicked little scream in his mouth. “Right. Hey, so you know how I keep asking _completely random questions_ about you and Hoseok--”

“What about me?” Hoseok pushed open the studio’s door, already sweating slightly as a tank top clings to him. Hyungwon looked around, swallowed, and went to sit back against the wall.

“Oh, nothing much,” Hyungwon said, looking at his phone again. “Changkyun is just being his creepy little self. _Prying_.” He waggled his eyebrows at Changkyun.

Changkyun gasped. “I am not! I’m just… Okay, I might be prying a bit.” Changkyun glanced at his bag again and swallowed. Should he check? He definitely shouldn’t. He walked over to his bag anyway. “I’m just procrastinating trying to do an impossible dance move, is all.”

“Aaaaaand now you’re just off the dance floor completely.”

“It’s for its own good, Wonnie,” Changkyun teased, fishing his phone out of his bag and nearly getting a heart attack. He had a message from an unknown number. Oh god. Oh _no_ . He really wanted Kihyun to text him and he did and oh _no_.

“Why do you look like you just saw a jumpscare?” came Hyungwon’s voice from _upsettingly_ close by, causing Changkyun to _actually_ jump, clutching his phone to his chest. Changkyun backed away slowly.

“Jeez, where did you come from. Don’t look over my shoulder, it’s rude,” Changkyun rambled, phone _burning_ in his hand. He really, _really_ wanted to read that message.

“It’s not my fault you’re unobservant, Changkyunnie.”

Changkyun glared, unlocking his phone and sitting down, keeping his phone close to his chest. He took a deep breath before opening the message.

The message was sent half an hour ago, when Changkyun was busy struggling his ass off. Oh god. Hopefully, Kihyun didn’t think Changkyun was ignoring him on purpose.

Changkyun started typing, and realised he’d have to lie. His… first message to Kihyun, and he’d have to lie. ‘ _Hey nothing big just practising my title song choreography loool follow me on twitter’._

Cause that would go down _super_ well. 

 

 So you don’t lie, but you flirt? _Seriously, Changkyun?!_

“Hey, Changkyun?”

Changkyun looked up to see Hoseok lifting an eyebrow at him. “Listen, I came down here to help you cause Hyungwon said you were freaking out but if you aren’t going to practise now…” He trailed off.

“Yeah! Shit, sorry, Hoseok, uhm,” Changkyun fumbled, dropping his phone and scrambling for it, ignoring the looks they sent his way. “Help. Yes. Please.”

 

\- * - * - 

 

 

\- * - * - 

 

Kihyun had gone home after his shift, fallen down face-first onto his bed, and slept like the dead for about four hours, before being woken up by his sister slamming the door shut and loudly asking where the fuck the food was.

Kihyun blearily blinked himself awake, looking out on his puppy-print duvet. Right. Food. That was a thing he needed to get. And medicine. One of his mother’s prescriptions run out tomorrow.

Jeongyeon leaned awaitingly in his bedroom doorway, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Tough day? You know, I could go get some food while you go to the pharmacy. If you don’t mind frozen pizza.”

Kihyun groaned. He knew he should say no, that they should get some food that would last longer, and be more nutritious but. But he was so tired. And he didn’t want to take the bus to the store, and then walk around with heavy bags, and then take the bus to the pharmacy again, and then add _another_ heavy bag and--

“Yeah, ok. I guess that’s fine for one night.” Kihyun squinted at Jeongyeon, noticing the length of her skirt. “Did you roll that up? You know you got detention for that last time.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes. “Yes, because thighs are _scary_ or _distracting_ or whatever the hell else. I’ll change before I leave for the shop, okay?” She stepped back to leave, before hesitating. “You sure we can’t invest in some new jeans for you, bro? Rips are fashion, but not _everywhere_.”

Kihyun looked down at his jeans which, yeah, were… slightly threadbare. “Maybe next week. I get paid at the end of this week. Also, no more rolling your skirt up at school either. I don’t want mom to call me to go in to school again because you violated the dress code. I have a li-- I have a job.” Kihyun paused. “Jobs.”

Jeongyeon frowned down at the floor, scuffing her shoe. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll stop. Aaaand take a few more shifts. Get you those jeans.”

“Jeongyeon. You know we talked about this. You can work, but this is only for pocket money. You need to focus on school work and--”

“Pocket money. Jeans have pockets,” she grinned widely, but Kihyun could see it wasn’t entirely genuine. “It’ll either be a late birthday present, or a _very_ early one.”

Kihyun grineed tiredly, pushing himself up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Lemme guess, I’m not getting an _actual_ birthday present?”

“It’ll be a really _nice_ jean. Sturdy, pockets… blue. You know, good ass jeans. Good _ass_ jeans. Etcetera.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now go change. I’m gonna go now, but make sure mom has everything she needs before you go. I might have forgotten to check before I passed out, and the pharmacy is only open until seven.” Kihyun reached for his sneakers (the soles of which almost entirely gone), pulling them on.

“Alright,” Jeongyeon nodded, before walking off, the sounds of her and Kihyun’s mother chatting lively following soon after.

Kihyun took a deep breath and smacked himself lightly on the cheek. If his mother could still be happy, still laugh and smile, with all the pain she was in, with all the inconvenience, he could handle a handful of jobs.

(Even if, sometimes, he felt like a taking a step in front of bus would be _so_ much easier.)

Okay. So, medicine. Have to take care of that. Then eating, then taking a shower, and then, _maybe_ , Kihyun will have some time to read a bit before he passes out again.

The book he’d been reading for about two months now lay untouched on his night stand as if to say, _no you probably won’t._ Whatever. He was allowed to hope.

Speaking of which--

Kihyun took his phone out of his pocket--yeah, he’d fallen asleep with his phone in his jean pocket, like an adult--and... 

  


Kihyun grinned. Changkyun sounded nervous. It was adorable.

 Three messages came in in quick succession and Changkyun nearly dropped his phone onto his face. He’d gotten stuck with the bridge of his song--the words and the tempo just didn’t fit but he’d get it, he knew that--and so, as you do, went to go lie on the ground with his legs in the air against the wall and scroll through Twitter.

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard and he frowned, hard. This was dumb. This was really, really stupid. He nibbled on his bottom lip and glared at the screen.

_Bad idea, bad idea, really bad idea._

So of course, he replied. And didn’t really plan on stopping any time soon, any time there was something to reply to. 

  


 

“Hey, are you gonna tap away on your phone all night, or are you actually gonna go to the pharmacy?”

Kihyun looked up to see Jeongyeon, already changed, frowning at him from the doorway.

“Oh, right, sorry. Got distracted.” Kihyun firmly told himself not to blush as he pocketed his phone.

“Got distracted _texting_. That’s new.”

Kihyun shrugged, picking up his backpack and checking to ensure he hadn’t, somehow, taken out his wallet. “I guess. I have friends too, you know.”

Jeongyeon scoffed. “If you ever have that look on your face while texting Yoongi or Minhyuk, I’ll buy a hat just to eat it.”

KIhyun scoffed at her, pushing past her. “That doesn’t even make _sense_ , Jeongyeon.”

“I’m just making a point!” she called after him, before huffing indignantly before the door closed behind him.

 

 

 

Kihyun felt himself blush as he pushed the phone into his pocket, sitting back on the bus. This was too much fun.

The bus hissed to a stop about three blocks from the pharmacy, and Kihyun waved at the bus driver as he got off. He’d known that bus driver since he was a kid, and, some days, when it was especially cold, the driver would give him and Jeongyeon little plastic cups of hot chocolate. It tasted completely awful, but it kept them warm, and Kihyun appreciated the gesture.

“How’s your mom doing?” the bus driver asked just as Kihyun took a step outside.

Kihyun shrugged. “She’s doing okay. The same. I hope your grandkids like their kindergarten.”

“They never want to go, but we always have to drag them home, kickin’ and screamin’.”

Kihyun grinned and waved, wiggling his toes and hiking up his backpack. (The toe wiggling helped for the cold, sometimes.)

The path to the pharmacy was a well-known path, one that Kihyun had walked since he was twelve years old. The first time had been scary, everything bright and white and so many pills, so many brightly coloured boxes packed along the walls. It had felt too big, too wide, something to grown-up for Kihyun to do.

Now, the pharmacy was slightly dingy, the bright white closer to a sickly yellow, the pills on the walls old friends, the pharmacist slightly older, still a snob.

“I’m here to pick up a prescription,” Kihyun said, like the pharmacist didn’t know by now.

“Oh, I know,” the pharmacist said and Kihyun almost bristled, remembering that the last time Kihyun _hadn’t_ said it, said pharmacist had ridiculed him loudly for ‘expecting them to remember every face that comes in here’.

“Just wanted to make sure.” Kihyun pasted a smile on his face. “I know I have a very forgettable face.”

“You stand out just fine,” the pharmacist smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, eyes flitting over him before typing something out on the computer and printing out labels, disappearing off between the shelves.

Kihyun sighed. He would go to another pharmacy, he really would, except, well, they sometimes gave him a discount on the off the shelf medicine, sometimes gave him old clothes. They pitied him, almost reviled him, but they helped him, in their own way. And Kihyun needed that, however reluctant he was to admit it.

The pharmacist gave the package to him with a pained looking smile, the sticker on the front declaring a substantial payment. Great. The health insurance stopped paying. It was March. Fuck.

The student behind the counter was a new one, again. It always surprised Kihyun how quickly they went through students. It’s not like it was a stressful work environment. Or, more stressful than a coffee shop, at least. Whatever. Not his problem.

The student glanced down at his torn jeans, his raggedy hoodie, and pulled her nose into a grimace. Kihyun rolled his eyes. Classy.

He handed over the pills and she looked doubtful. “Will that be cash or card?”

Kihyun glanced into his wallet. Despite his sour attitude that day, Kihyun had gotten quite a lot of tips, enough to pay in cash. “Cash,” he replied, monotone, pulling out a wad of cash, handing it over and trying not to feel a sting as the girl made pains not to touch his hand. This was fine.

His body hurt and they’d not eat very well any time soon, and he’d have to go to work again and pay this, again.

This was fine. He was fine. They were fine.

 

-*-*-

 

 

  


 

-*-*-

 

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/0OFSiwy.png)

**Author's Note:**

> we crave validation plz
> 
> We are on tumblr:  
> [booksandtea15](http://booksandtea15.tumblr.com/)  
> [shitty4eyes](http://shitty4eyes.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And twitter:  
> [booksandtea15](https://twitter.com/booksandtea15)  
> [shitty4eyes](https://twitter.com/shitty4eyes)


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